


blue eyes

by DeanandCasTrash



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angel! Dean, Dean Winchester - Freeform, Destiel - Freeform, Fic, M/M, Short, Supernatural - Freeform, castiel - Freeform, dean and cas trash, human! castiel, hunter! Castiel, reverse au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-25
Updated: 2019-03-25
Packaged: 2019-12-07 18:59:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,096
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18238940
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DeanandCasTrash/pseuds/DeanandCasTrash
Summary: Castiel, a hunter. Dean is an angel. This is a story of Dean thinking of Castiel's blue eyes-the first time he saw them when Castiel stabbed him in a barn, and now. Eight years after Castiel has worked so hard to teach Dean about humanity.Dean knows humanity-they're in Cas's eyes.





	blue eyes

Blue eyes.

There is nothing remarkable about blue eyes.

They aren’t shot with hazel, or violet. There aren’t flashes of navy or brown.

They’re just blue.

Castiel’s eyes are blue, but they aren’t just blue.

They’re just a tiny bit bigger than the average eye, which is lucky because they’re very pouchy and his eyelids fold over, slightly covering them up.

The color is remarkable. They’re blue, but you can look into them and find Castiel’s soul, you can find Castiel. Every time, too. He never leaves because he’s human and he can’t, even if he wanted too.

Dean hopes he doesn’t want too.

When Castiel is angry, his eyes turn a dark navy, and his eyebrows scrunch together. Dean swears that when he gets really angry, his soul boils.

When Castiel is happy, which is most of the time, his eyes are a sky-blue. His face isn’t tense, and his cheeks are always pulled into an award-winning smile.

Castiel’s eyes are nothing short from remarkable.

Dean tells him that now, that his eyes are remarkable, and Cas just stares at him harder.

Dean takes it. He takes all the pushes he gives. Cas uses himself as a weapon against him. He’s found a weakness within Dean- his love for humans, but mostly his love for one human. Dean fell in love with Cas and all of his energy. The way his soul and his eyes can tell such a story, or give off so much emotion.

Most humans are like that, but none as much as Cas.

Cas illustrates the difference between cute and beautiful perfectly, and he doesn’t even try. Every time Dean is with him he wonders how someone with such a past could turn out so perfectly imperfect, but he soon learns that struggle makes a person beautiful if they can get back up on their feet, and Castiel certainly can.

Dean takes that too; being with him. The battle of being with Cas is like fighting in slow motion. The punches are on their way, and Dean sees them, but before they come, he looks into Castiel’s eyes. Castiel’s remarkable eyes. They tell him a story, a story he falls in love with. The punches finally get there, but they don’t hurt the same as they would before. They aren’t the same.

Nothing’s been the same since Dean has been with Cas.

They don’t fight the same.

When Dean had first met Castiel, they had fought. Castiel knew something was up by the way he spoke when he knocked on his door.

Cas was staying at a hotel on a hunt. When Dean knocked on the door asking about lucifer the way he did, Castiel stabbed him with a demon knife right through the heart.

Dean didn’t even flinch. He pushed Cas across the room with his grace, and pinned him to the wall.

As he walked over to him, he pulled the knife out of his chest and examined it.

“Fancy knife you got here, Castiel.”

“Who are you?”

Dean got up very close to Cas, touching noses, as if he were about to kiss him.

“I’m the answer you your prayers.” Dean didn’t back away from Castiel yet. He looked him right in the eyes as he pushed the end of the blade into Castiel’s jawbone, but not cutting him. He lightly pulled it all the way down his body and slipped it down to his jean line, and tucked it in between his jeans and his underwear where he had it stored in the first place. “You aren’t to stab angels, you know.”

Castiel rolled his eyes, and Dean backed away.

“You’re no angel.”

“Well I’m obliviously not a demon.” Dean gestured to the wound on his chest.

Castiel watched in disbelief as it healed right before him, the blood even cleaning away with it.

“You’re probably wondering how I know your name. It has to do with lucifer. Look, Cas, I’m here to help, not hurt. I just need you to know your place, and part of your place is keeping your weapons pointed away from me. It’s the least you could do, since I resurrected you, and all.”

The first few months of knowing each other did not go smoothly.

Dean was a goody two shoes; the teacher’s pet, but the teacher was god, and god was no teacher. He learned that heaven wasn’t home, too. Earth is, it’s full of all the wonderful things Castiel taught him.

Cas taught him about rebellion, and free will. Doing what you think is right.

Those were Castiel’s morals. He had a saying; you have free will to make choices, and to do things that feel right.

It’s been about eight years since that day they first met, and Dean is still learning more and more to make his own choices, to do what feels right.

“Thank you, Dean,” Castiel says, finally.

It takes Dean a moment to realize why he’s thanking him; it’s for telling him his eyes are remarkable.

“Well, I mean, it’s true. Most humans have boring eyes. They have no emotion; they’re only used to see. You use your eyes to show what you feel through what you see. It shows what kind of person you are, and you have a beautiful soul, Cas.”

Castiel narrows his eyes, “Can you see my soul?”

“Yeah, I can. I can see everyone’s soul. Yours has changed, though. Over the years it has gone from navy to bright blue. It matches your eyes, and I think that it means you’re happy now,” Dean narrows his eyebrows and shakes his head. “What is different?”

“I learned to follow my own morals a bit better, I guess. Teaching you helped me teach myself some,” Castiel rubs his hand on the hood of his Lincoln Continental Mark V that they’re both sitting on. They’re drinking beer, and Dean might be an angel, but he downed enough to kill a few humans so he can get that warm fuzzy feeling they would get after two or three.

“This feels right.” Dean said.

Cas looked at him for an explanation.

“You and me, sitting here, having a few drinks. Nothing in heaven has felt this right.”

There was a millisecond of silence where they just looked at each other, and right after it passed was when Castiel leaned over and kissed Dean right on the lips.

Castiel held Dean close to his face, their noses touching. Dean looked right into those remarkable blue eyes.

Nothing in the world has ever felt this right.


End file.
